The Reason Is Him
by LadyOfTheBacon
Summary: I always leave Chyna wondering why I'm (apparently) obsessed with my quilt. I think the reason is obvious. Each image contains a picture of him. And that exactly what the reason is, a who. He is the reason. (Each chapter contains a memory of Fletcher and Olive from Olive's perspective)
1. Prologue

**AN: I haven't written in a while. But I read some reviews and some people said they'd like to see a multi-chap, thank you so very much for the compliment, and here it is... kinda. It's not really a story, more like a bunch of related one-shots.**

_"Looking at the quilt again?" Chyna groans as awakens from her sleep._

"A small click waking you, again?" I retort as I look up from my masterpiece.

_"You really are fond of that thing," she says with a groggy chuckle._

_I can barely make anything out, but I hear a soft 'thump,' and assume she's collapsed back onto her back. A soft snoring 30 seconds later confirms that she's asleep._

I spend many nights admiring my quilt. Tonight is no exception. In the dark, with only the soft light of the torch, I smile as my hand lightly glides across the fabric. I smile, and feel my cheeks ache for one reason, and one reason only. The star of her most treasured, most loved, memories.

_Fletcher._

* * *

**AN: I know it's small, but it's only a prologue. I'll be working on the first chapter (containing the first memory) shortly after this :)**

**-May the bacon, be ever in your favour, Mr Potter**

**LadyOfTheBacon**


	2. Chapter 1: When We First Met

**AN: I'm back, yay! Now on with the story...**

**Chapter 1: Crayons**

_My fingers finally rest on a picture, and I smile. It's the memory of when we first met. Fletcher's chestnut brown hair was more of a golden blonde, and his skin slightly lighter than it is now. In the photo, Fletcher is glaring at towards the front with a paintbrush in his hand, leaving a small red line of paint on his left arm._

* * *

It was my first day at the A.N.T Farm. Boy oh boy, was I frightened! I walked through the doors, hearing rustling of backpacks as high heels 'clicked' and 'clacked' against the light blue floors. I took a deep breath, and gulped as my mother gently nudged me forward.

"You'll do great," her warm voice whispered

I turn to look at her. Unlike me, my mother had dark hair, and was always pulled into a neat bun and a black headband. Her eyes however, were the same shade of blue, right down to the small grey scattered specks. I heard chattering as I made my way further down. I caught one word in particular.

"Ant."

"I think they're talking about me," I confided with a shaking voice.

"Jealousy. That you're a prodigy, and they aren't," my mother assured me.

Her voice was strong, and her head held high. I aspired to be like this loving woman. I straightened my back and aim my chin to be parallel to the floor. We finally reach a red door with a small rectangle door approximately 11 inches above the doorknob. It was open, revealing a large room filled with objects of all hobbies and skills. I walked into the room and couldn't fight back a gasp. I admit, I was in awe. A man with dark curly hair was currently talking to a little boy with light brown hair, a woman with a similar shade of hair behind him.

"And you must be Olive!" He exclaimed as he saw me enter the room with my mother.

"The other new Ant?" The boy squeaked as he looked at me.

He was wearing a blue graphic t-shirt and denim jeans, his shoes were also a light blue.

"Olive, this is Fletcher, who is also starting today."

I never would've guessed that this "Fletcher" would be so important to me.

* * *

It was later that I realised that I might be stuck with him. This "Fletcher" and I didn't get along. We were given time to work on our talents, and I let myself lounge on the red plush couch reading a text-book about the Great War. When I fully relaxed myself into the seat, letting my posture lack in grace, my feet were unable to reach the floor. To keep the idle limbs occupied, my legs swung back and forth at about 80 beats per minute. My floral patterned flats thumping against the lounge chair every now and then. I heard a clatter and sounds of rolling wood, my snapped at to observe the scene. The new boy, Fletcher, was scrambling around picking up paint brushes, and dropping them with a 'clank' into a black can. Fletcher looked up and caught my staring, I looked down as I saw his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"I'm kinda clumsy," he chuckled awkwardly as he scratched the back of neck.

I give one swift nod, and hoped he took it as a gesture of understanding. I look back at the paint brushes, and the painting. The painting was of an empty A.N.T Farm. I just had to say something, anything.

"Interesting factoid about paint brushes; they were invented in the year 3000 B.C by Meng Tian. Meng Tian was a general," the words tumbled out of my mouth as Fletcher picked up a paintbrush from his can.

"So, your talent is... blabbering?" He asked with a comically tilted head.

"Nope," I stated, popping the 'p.'

"I have an eidectic memory, everything I've ever seen, heard, or read, is perfectly recorded into my brain," I announced proudly.

He just nodded his head slowly before turning back to his painting.

I furrowed my eyebrows before returning to my book.

"So your talent is art?" I asked him as my eyes continued to scan the words on the book pages.

"Yeah," Fletcher half-heartily answered me.

I found myself frowning again.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

"Do you ever be quiet?" He groaned.

"Your grammar is appalling," I told him with a scrunched nose.

"You've been talking all day!" He whined.

I frowned, but before I could retort, he continued.

"Blah blah blah, blah blah," he practically droned as he gestured his hands to make it look like they're talking.

"Well, you're rude."

* * *

_Seriously Olive? That was the BEST you could think of? I shake my head, going back to my memory.  
_

* * *

He just frowned at me.

"And you're annoying," he grumbled.

"So are you!" I yelled.

He turned around and away from his painting. He folded his arms, the paintbrush drawing a small red line on his left arm as he did so. I stood up, stomping my foot as I took a step towards him. Before anything could get messy, the bell rang. We both packed up our things and walked out the door in silence, sending (what we thought were) subtle glares at one another on our way to 5th period.

* * *

_I giggle quietly, and remember being confronted by Svetlana about my glares to Fletcher. I shake my head, that was another memory for another time. I flick the torch off, hearing the small 'click' and rustling of Chyna's blankets. Thank gosh she was my only room mate. I set it down on my bedside, Chyna tossing again as the plastic hit the wood. I almost hiss, before remembering not to make a sound. I then settle myself into a comfortable position, and slowly drift off into a nice dream._

* * *

**AN: This chapter was originally longer, but I got too annoyed after it was accidentally deleted without being saved, twice. That, and the fact that the 'w' key doesn't work properly, got really annoying. I'll hopefully have the next one up by tomorrow night around 10pm (AEST).**


	3. Chapter 2: We Could Be Friends Maybe

**AN: Hey guys, really tired from basketball. We lost, but I had fun.**

_"Oh. My. Gosh," Chyna groans as she throws open the door to our bedroom._

_In the light, the mostly beige room is seen clearly. There are two mahogany desks on either side of the room, and both are about to be piled with books and papers._

_"So much homework," I squeal as I chuck my bag beside my bed._

_Chyna gives me a "are you kidding me?" as she folds her arms. I giggle, remembering my friend's lack of liking for homework._

_"Well, it's lights out in five minutes," I tell her as I gather my toiletries._

_"And I am tired," she says with a lethargic chuckle._

_I enter our bathroom and have a nice, relaxing hot shower. I inhale the orange and tangerine shampoo and conditioner. Interesting factioid about citrus fruits, the scent of them can energise and refresh a person._

_'Knock. Knock.'_

_"Olive! Don't hog all the hot water again!" Chyna shouts to me while still banging on the bathroom door._

_I turn the silver knobs until I stop feeling the water. They squeak ever so slightly._

_I get out of the shower and put on my floral pajamas. I exit the bathroom and immediately run to me bed, and land with a belly flop. The bathroom door closes with a small "click clack" as I grab out a novel from my bedside table. 'The Puzzle Ring.' I read a few pages before Chyna steps out of the bathroom._

_"Lighta out," Chyna tells me before flicking the switch._

_When the lights go out I clutch my quilt. I smile again, and try to make out the picture in the dark._

* * *

"And suddenly you're in second place," Chyna said to Fletcher before turning to me with a slightly weirded out expression.

* * *

_I chuckle at the memory and shake my head. I kind of wish I DIDN'T remember what I was wearing._

* * *

I was wearing a sparkley red dress that reaches my ankles and tied up my hair in what I thought was an adult-like hairdo. I even applied some make-up for good measure. I had blueberry yoghurt in my shirt to try and make my boobs larger. That didn't work out so well. Chyna was in a rather "fashionable" outfit, ith a long pink shirt, black tights, and black ruffled skirt. Fletcher looked RIDICULOUS! He was wearing a grey tux, with a matching top hat, a cane and a monocle. I think he even combed his hair a bit...

* * *

_I bite my lip, trying to muffle and cease my giggling. That night began a chain of events that I don't think even a psychic could see. I stretch my arm out to the side and fumble around the bedside table for my torch. I find it, clutch it in my palm, and bring it close to me before flicking it on. It makes a small click as a small beam of yellow light reveals a few pictures on my quilt. I search for the one with the glitter and the glue... FOUND IT!_

* * *

Fletcher and I were in the A.N.T Farm with some of the other A. , just like any other morning. Except, this time he was kept flicking his head over to the door for Chyna. He had fallen in love with her, and I found it annoying. Already he had five paintings, six sculptures and 3 charcoal sketches. After he sighed for the three hundred and ninety forth time, I snapped my book shut.

"Will you man up!" I snapped at him.

The other kids in the A.N.T Farm froze and just stared at me.

"Go back to your talents!" I scream at them.

They did just that, and I gave Fletcher a cold glare.

"I think her Dad pulled her out," Fletcher mumbled sadly.

I placed my book in my bag before walking to the doorway. Fletcher picked up his paint brush and painted another strand of her hair.

"Come for a walk, maybe we can find her," I suggested as I lean against the door frame.

Fletcher rose his eyebrows at me.

"Why would WE go on a walk, TOGETHER?" He asked me.

"We already went to a party last night," I replied with a dopey voice and rolled eyes.

Fletcher looked at his painting, then me. He sighed, and reluctantly placed his paintbrush on the easel before trudging over to me. I smiled and walked out the door, and when I turned my head, he was beside me.

"You say you love her?" I asked him after a torturous silence.

His only response was a slow nod. I halted and frowned at him. He turned and tilted his head at me.

"Why aren't you blabbering?"

He shrugged his shoulders at me.

"See!" I shouted as I gestured wildly at him.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he just stared like I as crazy. Just to be clear, I am NOT crazy.

"You usually get upset at ME for blabbering, but you're not," I pointed out.

"I dunno," he mumbled before kicking the floor.

"Where are your friends anyway?" I asked him. I just can't handle his moody little as-

"I don't really have any, I only had Chyna," he whispered.

"Me too," I told him in a heartbeat.

Oh God. Why.

He looked up at me with widened eyes. I just tried to smile, but I'm pretty sure I looked like a clown dog.

"Well, we went to a party last night together," he muttered as he rubbed his arm nervously.

"We're getting along now too," I added and decided to avoid his eyes.

"Maybe we- nevermind," he spun around.

"We could be friends," I squeaked, "maybe."

He turned around and looked at me.

"Maybe," he whispered.

"I still hate you," I giggled as I grinned.

"Be quiet," he replied with a chuckle.

We continued walking, and we reached the art room.

"Want to do some art?" He asked me as he opened the door.

"Are there any tributes to Chyna in there?" I teased as I walked into the room.

He mimicked me in an unrealistic high-pitched voice. I poked my tongue at him before grabbing some glitters and glue.

"Ooh glitter art," he mused as he walked over to me.

"You like glitter art," I scoffed.

When I turned around, a bit of blue glitter splashed on him.

"No," he responded in a (again unrealistic) lower voice.

I snort, grabbing some pink and orange glitter.

"Really? Pink and orange?" He asked with a disgusted voice.

In small anger, I decided to sprinkle some on him. As revenge, he grabbed a pot and brush of craft glue and smeared some on me. I repeated his offence, and we both had a glitter and glue fight in the art room. It was a shame that Skidmore just HAD to come and ruin our fun. He gave me a cheesy smile as his parents arrived with new clothes.

"You can change and clean up in the gym showers," Skidmore told us before strutting out to keep an eye on... probably nothing.

Fletcher gave me another grin, and another challenge.

"I bet I can clean up faster than you."

I beat him, because I remember the best procedures for this.

* * *

_I_'_m going to fall asleep if I recite them NOW_

* * *

We met outside the showers. Fletcher groaned upon seeing my outside first.

"We should head back," I said with a worried tone.

"When's the bell going," he asked as he scanned the room.

"Soon," I gulp.

We sprint back to the room, but Fletcher pulls me aside before we enter.

"So... are we really friends?"

I nodded, a little scared he was going to take it back.

"Good."

We walked inside. Over near the panic room, I see multiple instruments set up.

"Hey, who set up all these instruments?" I asked nobody in particular.

"I did!" Chyna exclaimed as she jumped up.

* * *

_"Thanks Chyna," I whispered, looking over at her sleeping figure._

_I turn off the torch, and flop onto my back. I stretch my arm over and place the torch back onto the bedside table. I shuffle onto my side, and pull my quilt to my_

_chin._

* * *

**AN: Here we go! I know the memories seem to be in chronological order, but I'll most likely mix up the orders in future chapters.**


End file.
